Knots and Transformations
by Terpsichore ON CRACK
Summary: Hiei is changing, Mukuro isn't quite as much of an enigma as she used to be. Makai Tournament fic


Disclaimer: Really, it's not mine.

Pairings/Warnings: Hints of Shigure/Hiei, general undertone of Mukuro/Hiei (although it could be taken as platonic), and blink-and-you-miss-it Kurama/Hiei (because I can't be Hiei-centric without it.)

A/N: Mukuro is such an amazing character, and so often in fic she gets either ignored or bastardized (bionic bitch, anyone?) I just wanted to bring some Mukuro love.

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Hiei imagined that the change in their relationship would be more dramatic.

Her voice was in his mind, piercing his memories, peeling back layers of secrets and shields and agony which he'd tried so hard to keep hidden away, warded with the same burning intensity as the wards which kept his strength contained as an infant, protecting delicate skin from his blistering touch. He supposed he should have felt incredibly violated, being manipulated (--his heart manipulated--) into confrontation like that. But at that point, what was the value in holding on to the rage which rotted and festered in the pit of his stomach since he realized it within hours of his birth, when he could see it pooling around him, flowing from his body as it emptied of blood and his vision blurred and wavered.

She would take what she wanted.

It came as not much of a surprise to find himself alive and healing, suspended in some strange fluid in a tank that must have cost a fortune to produce—not that she couldn't afford it, as demons of her status came with piles and piles of riches stowed away in hidden caverns—and was equally unfazed at the sight of her body. It was a bit unfair of her to allow him to die before showing herself, unfair that she kept his mother's tear until the last minute, not that he particularly cared or wanted it once he realized that there truly was nothing left for him, not even battle.

The Dragon was calm, which was a rarity, as since he'd first summoned it, it had took every opportunity it could to try and break him, rip its way out to defeat (--devour, consume, feast, destroy, kill, kill, and kill again--) his enemies, any enemies. It lay dormant at last, dormant with the rest of him, Hiei's insatiable lust for battle quenched at last, his mind wandering, the Jagan feeding him information without direction. His subconscious took in the sights—that was Mukuro in front of him, Mukuro the woman, Mukuro the invader, Mukuro the strong, the exotic glimpse of Mukuro the vulnerable.

She had taken what she could of him, and now, she reciprocated.

The months drifted by, a haze of healing, training, and commanding, second in line but still equal in a way that was different from being equal to Kurama. She gave orders, and he obeyed them if he felt like it, which was most of the time anyway. Working so closely with someone who knew all his secrets was not something he cared to do, but again, it was different than being Shigure's apprentice, where, as much as Hiei had cared-no, apprecia-no, wrong—tolerated his fatherly mentorship (despite the distinctly un-fatherly sex) their relationship was never an equal one, even taking into account Shigure's unreasonable affection for him.

She gave him balance.

They expected Shigure's suicide. There wasn't a chance of him beating Kurama in this match, whether the fox embraced his true form or not, and anyway, he was determined to die in battle. While Hiei's death had brought him a beginning, Shigure had never truly come back after his defeat. After watching him going through the motions for six months, empty and without feeling, they both knew that the sword wielding surgeon would not return alive from the tournament, as genial a tournament as it was. Mukuro and Hiei went to their fight with indifference towards him.

He heard her story at last. Much of it he'd suspected already, and he'd heard snippets of rumors amongst the soldiers, after their shock at the sight of her uncovered face. They fought without malice, and she opened herself to him the way he had to her, and he found himself falling into a tangled mess of threads crossing space, cutting him to the soul, making him acknowledge consciously for the first time the driving force behind his fury. He forced the Dragon out, and knew it would fail. It fed and thrived on his pain and anger, a destructive force amplified by the emotions of its wielder, and Hiei, for all his straining, could not bring himself to feel rage towards Mukuro.

She tore it in half, and he was hit with the backlash, not the greatest physical force he'd ever been blasted with, but piercing in an unfamiliar way. He could not hurt her and she could not hurt him, and that was the way it was. They weren't in love, at least not a love that either of them was capable of recognizing. They just existed, with each other, near each other, knowing each other down to the last detail, (--so strange for a pair of demons such as themselves--) and that was fine.

He belonged.

Before he was allied (--friendsormore--) with Kurama, Hiei had never slept without caution. Before meeting Yuusuke, he would never have been able to trust in his allies to take care of his unconscious body when literally hundreds of demons were screaming for their deaths. He would rather have died of exhaustion. He was forced to go against all he had taught himself fighting for his life in the Makai and trust, something that he had never truly managed before them, even with Shigure, who he had to trust for the sake of the Jagan.

His body aching and broken, his heart and spirit raw and bleeding, (--wounds stitching themselves together with ease--) Hiei thought that maybe he could feel something, finally. Mukuro caught him as he fell, (--so powerful, he should fear her--) and Hiei closed his eyes.

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Reviews are welcomed and adored!


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